


Not Interested

by hmweasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beauxbatons, Gen, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 20:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20699588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmweasley/pseuds/hmweasley
Summary: Fleur was trying to enjoy a nice spring day until Bertrand appeared and ruined it.





	Not Interested

**Author's Note:**

> As Fleur and Bertrand are at Beauxbatons in this story, I imagine they're speaking French despite the story being in English. Because of that and my typical aversion to writing dialect, Fleur's accent isn't written here.

It was a peaceful spring night at Beauxbatons. A light breeze ruffled Fleur’s hair. She reached up to brush it back behind her ear and used the distraction as an excuse to look around at the flowers that were beginning to bloom.

Usually, she’d have brought a friend with her, but something about the nice spring weather had called for her to come alone. Sitting under one of the beech trees that lined the crisscrossing paths of the school grounds, she didn’t regret it. Her mind felt clearer than it had at any point while holed up indoors during the winter.

A lone figure coming down the path captured her attention. It was the first person she’d seen since sitting down. She’d chosen a less travelled path on purpose after all.

As the figure got closer, Fleur’s stomach twisted with anxiety.

It was Bertrand, an older student who had been bothering her since his growth spurt a year previously had given him a confidence boost.

“Go away,” Fleur snapped as soon as he was within earshot.

Her grip tightened around her forgotten book as he smirked at her. He probably thought it looked charming, but all it did was send shivers down Fleur’s spine. And not the good kind.

“Why would I do that?” he asked, leaning against the tree next to Fleur’s. “When one comes across such a beautiful woman, he can’t leave without stopping to admire her.”

Fleur closed her book and held it against her chest as if it could shield her from his gaze.

“I’ve already told you that I don’t want to date you, Bertrand.”

Her heart raced at the way he looked at her. The blood rushed through her veins as her body prepared to flee. Fleur took several breaths to calm herself. She wasn’t sure why the older boy unnerved her so much. He was annoying, yes, but he’d never done anything harmful. Why, then, did she feel such revulsion when he was near her?

He didn’t respond to her words. He only continued to smirk as he sat across from her, stretching his legs out until his feet were inches from Fleur’s own leg. She eyed them warily as he crossed his ankles.

“And stop calling me beautiful,” she added with her eyes still on his feet.

His chuckle made her look at his face again. He leaned towards her, forcing Fleur to press her back into the trunk of the tree to keep her distance. Bertrand appeared oblivious to her efforts at maintaining as much space as possible.

“Why would you want me to deny the truth?” he asked in a smooth voice that Fleur knew should have been attractive. For some reason, it wasn’t. “There’s no need to be humble with me, love. You’re gorgeous and deserve to hear it.”

She bit her tongue, holding back the retort that she had heard it. She heard it more than anyone needed to. What she heard far less was that she had a particular talent for charms. No one ever told her that despite how hard she worked in Charms class. And no one but her closest friends ever complimented her on her keen political analysis, though she followed such news passionately. Once she’d tried discussing politics with a boy only for him to laugh at her.

Usually, she only let herself feel angry about it when she was alone, but in that moment, with Bertrand smiling at her in a way that made her feel belittled far more than flattered, her anger flared up and overtook her previous fear.

“No matter how many times you compliment me, I will not change my mind,” she said firmly. 

The fire in her voice sparked something akin to realization in Bertrand. His smile dimmed.

“I will never date you,” Fleur continued. “I have no interest in you at all. The only thing I want is for you to leave me alone.”

His own anger flashed in his eyes. Fleur’s hand, unnoticed by Bertrand, dived into the pocket of her robes out of instinct.

“What do I have to do to win you over?” he asked with a whine.

His face contorted in a way that revealed his previous his previous flattery to be a facade for something far less pleasant.

“Time and time again, I’ve been kind to you, yet you want nothing to do with me. Is this something left over from the heartless Veela you descend from? Or do you think you’re just too good for the rest of us?”

In her pocket, Fleur’s hand tightened into a fist around her wand.

“It’s neither of those,” she said. “It’s entirely human to want a relationship with some depth, is it not? I don’t think that makes me stuck up. We don’t have anything in common, Bertrand. All you ever want to talk about is how attractive I am, and it’s boring. If you want to win a girl over, you should work on being less boring. Then you’ll have something meaningful to talk about.”

He was momentarily stunned before his smirk returned, a hint of cruelty in it that hadn’t been there before.

“As if talking is what I want to do with you,” he drawled.

Fleur gagged.

“Leave me alone,” she snapped. “All I want is for you to shut up. I certainly don’t want to do anything else with you.”

“That’s a shame,” he said with a laugh. “Because there are a lot of very fun things we could do that would shut me up quite effectively.”

He moved to his knees, but Fleur never got the chance to learn if he meant to do more than just tell her what those things were. Without thinking, she pulled her wand from her robes and brandished it in his face. He scarcely had time to widen his eyes before she shouted, “Depulso!” and he vanished from sight.

Fleur collapsed against the tree, dropping her hand that still clutched her wand to her lap. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. She felt as if she’d run a marathon as opposed to performing just one spell.

At first, her shock over the encounter masked everything else. Holding her wand had been to protect herself, but she hadn’t planned to actually use it. She had panicked and acted without thinking. She laughed, unsure what to make of what had happened.

She had no idea what the consequences for her actions would be. Surely there would be some sort of punishment for vanishing another student, and she had no proof that he’d meant to harm her. Experience told her not to trust that the professors would be on her side, though perhaps Madame Maxime would vouch for her. She was one of the few who saw Fleur as talented with magic and not just a pretty face who could be blamed for distracting the boys from their studies.

But, despite all that, she let herself wallow in her sense of victory for a moment before gathering her things and hurrying back up to school before Bertrand, angrier than ever, came back for more.


End file.
